


The Angels of Dawn and the Little Death

by vesuviannights



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AFAB, Female Reader, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 02:58:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20185132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesuviannights/pseuds/vesuviannights
Summary: On the morning of your birthday, you wake sandwiched between your two loves. Asra tells you, as he brushes the hair off your face and traces the curve of your bottom lip, that he has many things on his to-do list for the day - and you are every item, A-Z.





	The Angels of Dawn and the Little Death

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day #2 of Poly Week and an anon request on my Tumblr (@vesuviannights). Anon requested some fluffy Asra/MC/Julian, and I was so very, very glad to oblige. All 3 parties are involved in a consensual poly relationship with the other 2.

You wake the morning of your birthday to beams of sunlight stretching over the bed, warming your body as the dust of the room dances about inside of them.

It’s your bed this morning, tucked away in the highest corner of the shop, and as wonderful and warm as your bed is, it was not built for Devoraks. Julian’s long, lithe limbs are hanging off the foot of the bed, off the side he is occupying, one arm curled haphazardly over his face. He is snoring softly as he sleeps, deep and undisturbed since the moment his tired, aching bones hit your mattress late last night.

On your other side is Asra, curled into you with his hand under your shirt, tracing intricate patterns on your stomach you’re sure would amass to something—a spell, a term of endearment, the lyrics to a song—if you could only be bothered to pay attention.

“Happy birthday, my love,” he murmurs in your ear. He catches the lobe between his teeth, and your body seems to move into him of its own accord, stretching out along the length of his own.

“Is that what today is?” You murmur, your eyes fluttering shut. Asra chuckles, one that tells you he doesn’t believe your innocent act for even a moment, and your lips twitch in response, giving away the final shreds of your game all too easily.

Asra shifts beside you, and a moment later his hand has left your stomach and slid into your hair, cupping the back of your head. His thumb traces your bottom lip, then your cheek bone, and you crack one eye open to look at him, at least trying to pretend he is disturbing your sleep.

“That look hardly scares me,” he tells you.

“Well it should.”

“How could it, when you are the most wonderful thing I know, and I would let you do anything you wanted or needed to me?”

You try to roll your eyes, try to downplay his affections with a shake of your head, but your cheeks are flushed, and he never lets you get away with rebuffing his lovely words for very long. His lips meet yours, and the kiss he gives you—the first of your birthday this year—is slow, longing, with wondrous sighs and deep inhales. His palm smooths down your neck, your shoulder, over your body, until it cups the back of your calf and pulls your knee up to his hip. He grinds into you, just as tenderly and as slowly as your kiss is moving, and your murmur your approval back to him.

Some minutes later, when Asra’s hips are still pressed into yours, and he is smiling and murmuring to you, pulling back to kiss the tip of your nose, the curve of your jaw, the divot at the base of your neck, you are disturbed by a quiet grumble that neither of you have given. The bed seems to lurch dramatically behind you, and a moment later another arm—longer, a little colder—circles around your waist and pulls you away from Asra and into a hard chest.

“Don’t be mean,” Julian grumbles into the back of your head. And then, much quieter and in a tone that suggests he had cut half of his own words off out of laziness, “Always having fun without me.”

His words are a little slurred from the early hour, and his movements are sluggish, as though his body was only half aware of itself. You exchange a look with Asra, waiting to see how Julian’s interruption will play out. But he merely nuzzles into the back of your neck, murmuring nonsense as he resettles with you against his chest, leg hooked over yours. It seems, with his content sighs and soft, even breaths, as though he is going to settle back into sleep and leave the two of you to your ways. 

When that single thought seems to cross both of your minds at the same time, Asra shifts closer and presses into your front, pushes your hair off your face as he speaks.

“I won’t be letting the least favourite Devorak stop me from checking boxes off my morning to-do list.”

You scrunch your nose. “I’m a check list, am I?”

Asra’s eyes dance as he eyes you over, his lips so close that they brush yours as he murmurs to you, “You are every item on the checklist, A through Z. And I make a new dot point for every place I wish to kiss you, and a new tally mark for every time I wish to hear you sigh my name.”

“And how many are there this morning?”

“You’ll see.”

He kisses you again, his tongue cool as it slips into your mouth and greedily sweeps up every sigh you have waiting there for him. At some point during your exchange, Julian has woken again—properly this time, it seems—and as Asra’s hand squeezes the soft flesh of your breast, and as he lazily drags his thumb over your nipple through the fabric covering it, Julian stretches out around you and grinds his already hardening length into your ass.

“So wonderful of you to join us, Ilya,” Asra murmurs. You like nothing about the innocent, lilting tone you find there. “Do you know what today is?”

Asra shifts down your body as he speaks, taking the nipple he had been teasing moments earlier between his lips, sucking gently. You whimper against him, your bottom lip trembling at the warmth of his tongue and mouth. The moment your fingertips delve into his soft waves to try and hold him there, however, he is taking your wrists and passing them to Julian before moving further down your body.

“Dearest Asra, is it the day you finally break my heart by insulting me one too many times and with too much thinly-veiled truth?” Julian offers. He matches Asra’s tone perfectly, and it only serves to unnerve you a little bit more. The two of them could play games for hours when it came to dramatics and flair, and when those games were focused on you? _Oh no_.

Asra has settled between your legs, and as Julian was teasing you with his words, Asra was doing some of his own, placing tender kisses along the inside of your thighs. You are already aching, already trembling from the possibility of a touch, alongside the unspoken promise that you would have to endure their teasing dramatics while waiting for it.

“You would enjoy it,” Asra tells Julian, his lips curving affectionately against your skin.

“Ah, you know me too well. Will you break it if I’m good, just for the thrill?”

“If you are good, then I’ll consider it.”

“I’m always good.”

“Then I will always consider it.”

“CAN YOU FOCUS!?”

You snap it, almost scream it in a voice that breaks halfway through your words. Your thighs are trembling beneath the ministrations of Asra’s lips, and you are already aching from each hot breath he has (through no accident) let pass over you, from the way his knuckle is barely touching you as it traces your seam through the fabric. 

“Well,” Julian scoffs, though he is grinning into your neck. “With an attitude like that, I’d find it hard to focus on anything.”

“It’s my birthday!” You grumble. “I’m meant to be—”

“Barking orders at people?” Asra cuts you off. You open your eyes to find Asra grinning, the mischievous spark in his eyes telling you all you needed to know.

Julian tuts. “It’s a good thing _you_ aren’t the one whose pleasure rests on your good behaviour.”

“You should take this chance to prove yourself, Ilya,” Asra says. “Be good by helping _her_ be good.”

Julian makes a thoughtful noise, and you know that Asra’s careful touches are strategic, trying to distract you from squirming away or picking up on the hidden meaning in their words. You try so very hard to dissect them, but all you can really manage is to sigh out Asra’s name, back and hips arching toward him like a kitten in sunlight.

“I never mind being told exactly what to do by you, love,” Julian eventually answers. The lilt is back, that _tone._ “But, I also never shy away from a chance to watch you pout.”

Julian’s arm tightens around your waist as his words sink into your addled mind, a mere moment before Asra hooks his fingertips into your undergarments and pulls them down. You lift your hips to let him remove them, but he leaves them around your knees, locking them together with just enough space for him to begin his true work.

He traces the tip of a single finger down your seam, passing it over once, twice, before gently parting your folds. You roll your hips toward his touch, your back arching along with it, but Julian’s hold stops you from moving too far, from being too successful in seeking more.

Asra’s movements and affections are practised and knowing from so many hours spent between your thighs, as well as Julian’s. You know if he were ever forced to choose a favourite pair of thighs, he would blow the last of his braincells trying to comprehend that he had to choose, let alone in making that choice.

You had once—on a cold winter’s night where you had refused to move from in front of the fireplace—let him feast on you for hours while you whimpered and cried, and Julian had held you and told you how well you were doing, had described in detail how wonderful every part of you was, until you hadn’t been able to stand it any longer, throat too raw, clit too swollen. The very next morning, you had been given the pleasure of watching him overstimulate Julian under the table while you made your way through a stack of pancakes, grinning and flushed from the sight of Julian’s trembling lips and white-knuckles as he had come over and over and over again.

This morning though, gluttony is not Asra’s sin of choice. The flat of his tongue swipes in one slow, long, frustrating motion over the length of you, before flicking its tip over your clit, causing your entire body to jerk. His index finger is gently probing at your entrance, gathering your arousal and smearing it around before sliding in. He crooks it, slow and soft, almost lazily, and smiles into you as you shiver and whimper.

“Oh—” Your entire body shudders and shivers from the sensations. “_Asra_—”

“Does he make you feel good, love?” Julian asks.

You nod pathetically, reaching back to bury your hands in Julian’s bed-mussed curls. You tug on them as you shift and groan, and you feel his cock twitch at your lower back in response.

“You look so beautiful like this,” Asra murmurs his praise to you against your thigh, his gaze burning across your body as he slides a second finger into you, his tongue continuing to trace indecipherable patterns over your swollen clit. “Your cheeks flushed, hands in Ilya’s hair—you know he loves it so when you pull a little too tight.”

Julian nuzzles into your neck and sighs his agreement, and you pull a little harder in response. He whimpers at the pain, and his hips grind against the curve of your ass. As Asra slowly brings you toward your edge with his crooking, twisting fingers and practised tongue, you can vaguely hear him murmuring to you about how well you are doing, how wonderful you look flushed and spread above him, chest heaving, body shaking. His words come to you through a lusty, heady haze, as though being said to you from another room or through a memory, and you aren’t even sure if you’re managing to babble or murmur anything in response.

While Asra works to disorientate and unravel you, Julian is leaving marks in all of his favourite places—your collarbone, the tender flesh just beneath your ear, the back of your shoulder. His hands find you underneath your shirt, cupping the swell of each of your breasts. He squeezes and rolls them in his large palms, making spots dance in your vision, sensation popping in the peaks of your tight nipples.

“_J-Julian—Asra_—” You stumble over each of their names as you try to get their attention, but Julian merely sighs into your neck and Asra seems to be pointedly ignoring you, and you let out a whine as you feel his movements begin to slow inside and around you. “No no—faster, go _faster_, damnit! Please, it feels so good, I-I’m so—so close—_ah_!”

You cry out as Asra’s teeth graze against your swollen clit, followed immediately by his lips latching onto the bud and beginning to mercilessly suck. With his fingers crooking and twisting and spreading you apart, and Julian’s thumbs toying with your stiff nipples, his lips pressed against your ear and murmuring his affections, you are coming apart in moments, writhing and whimpering and moaning softly in their arms, your body shivering and aching and falling apart, all just for them.

Your lashes flutter against your cheeks as you come down from your high, and you are only vaguely aware of Asra’s lips trailing their way back up your body. He kisses each of your thighs, he kisses each of your hips, he kisses the exposed skin between Julian’s fingers, cupped around your breasts. And then he finally kisses your lips, letting you taste yourself. When his tongue sweeps into your mouth, you suck gently, and the soft moan he gives you in return has your body already awakening and greedy for more.

He pulls back after a few moments, tilting your head away with his fingertips so that he can kiss Julian, too, giving him the taste of you that he couldn’t have for himself. You know he will, though; Julian is a man greedy for every piece of you and of Asra, and the twitching of his cock against your ass, the grinding and thrusting he has been doing as Asra devoured your pussy and left you shaken and raw, is not something that can be ignored.

“Happy birthday to me,” you murmur, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. Asra pulls back from Julian to watch the action, and as your hand runs down Asra’s chest toward his bulge, you smile. “How many more things are on that list of yours?”

Asra’s eyes cloud over as your hand closes around his cock, his jaw dropping open. Julian shifts his hips behind you, never one to be forgotten, and you are once again pressed in between them—only this time, you are not the one who is begging to be paid attention to, and have every opportunity to seize control and make them pay, so should you wish,

“I think,” Asra says after a long moments pause, his entire body rolling into yours as you pull ever-so-slightly on his cock. His eyes lift to yours, a few shades darker, a few shades more mischievous. “You already know the answer to that.”


End file.
